Here is your coffee, Sir
by FluffDucklings
Summary: Alfred remembers the Boston Tea Party.


**A/N: **Time for some more colonial!America.  
>I love America's storage room comic. It's so awesome~<br>I hope you enjoy my little rendition of the Boston Tea Party.

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><p>"I'm going to be cleaning out my closet, Lithy, so you can just do whatever."<p>

"I'll make you some coffee then, Mister America."

America nodded and waved his hand to Lithuania as he rounded the corner and walked into the storage room. He stretched his arms above his head. "Where to start…" The blond man looked around the room, surveying the area, before deciding on a box of yellowing papers.

Blowing the top layer of dust off the box, Alfred read the short description of what it contained. "_Newspapers_," it read.

"Hmm." Alfred lifted the top off and was met with headlines from his colonial days. Reading a certain tea-related tagline, Alfred was plunged into his memories – like a reel was playing in his head a black and white screen-play of his life.

It was 1773 and Alfred was physically the age of a young teenager. He was back in his Boston homestead. Alfred was reading the same newspaper. "_Tea Act of 1773 – Britain's Mockery_."

England had lied to him. England had lied to Alfred. The tea will be cheaper, he had said. _Cheaper_. Damn it, it was just as pricey with that godforsaken Townshend duty.

And everyone thought it. The colonists drank smuggled tea from Denmark, newspapers offered substitutes, and they told people of the poison it caused them.

But that was enough. Alfred had had it with England. The Sons and Daughters of Liberty were getting restless with small parades. It was time for something big. Something to really knock England off his high horse and show him they meant business. But what?

Alfred threw the paper down suddenly, as if it had just burst into flame. He opened the window – Arthur never locked the windows, "It is ungentlemanly-like to climb through windows," he says – and Alfred climbed through, dashing off to the old barn that the Sons of Liberty held meetings at nearly every night.

It was past dusk and getting hard to see as Alfred neared the barn. The barn was lit-up with kerosene lamps and buzzing with barely contained excitement. When Alfred slipped past the doors, he was met with a large crowd of men from the nearby town.

Alfred made his way to the front of the crowd and made sure he had a nice view of the make-shift platform stage.

"Alright men, alright!" Mr. Gastop called. He was a shoemaker and often Alfred stopped by to chat with him. "You all knew why we're here tonight. And may I ask if there are any suggestions."

Alfred raised his hand – a pretty childish manner in itself, but that was what felt necessary. "Lt. Hutchinson has his boats docked in the Boston Harbor as often as he can. We need to do something to make him not want to dock here anymore."

The men in the barn cheered, all agreeing with Alfred.

Next thing Alfred knew, it was December. Snow was piling on the ground and firewood was plentiful.

The Sons of Liberty hadn't been as successful as Alfred would have liked. Lt. Hutchinson still docked his ships from India in the Boston Harbor and tea was still over-priced.

Then he was struck with an idea. Alfred raced to the meeting that night.

"We'll throw the tea into th Harbor," he said as soon as the men quieted down. "We can dress up as Indians so the officers don't know it's us and we can dump all the tea into the water. It's foolproof."

Mr. Gastop scrutinized Alfred for a moment, taking in the suggestion. "If we do follow through, what are we expecting to happen?"

"It will do nothing more than preserve the liberties of America. What we've been fighting for."

The men cheered again and Alfred felt proud.

Two weeks later, on the nights of December 16, the group of men plus Alfred, snuck aboard the _Dartmouth_ ship and two others after that and began dumping crate after crate of imported tea into the waters below. With feathers and whoops, the men plus Alfred, excitedly finished their job. 342 crates were disturbed and thrown overboard that night. Alfred counted each one with a smile.

"I-I have your coffee, Mister America."

Alfred jumped, throwing the paper down. "W-What? Oh. Thanks, Lithy." Alfred took a cup from Lithuania and drank it down.

"What are you looking at, Mister America?" Lithuania had crouched down to the box and was looking at the newspapers.

Alfred blushed and rubbed at his neck. "Just some old newspapers. It's kind of silly, actually."

Lithuania picked up the one Alfred had been holding and read it to himself. Looking at the following papers, Lithuania looked back up to Alfred. "You threw three ships worth of tea into a harbor?"

"Y-Yeah. You probably think that's the kind of thing a spoiled brat would do, huh?"

"N-No." Lithuania shook his head. "That is very courageous of you to do. The paper says that some men were killed for it. That was very brave of you."

"Aha. Yeah. Well, let's get out of here. I always get depressed when I'm in here for too long."


End file.
